


Blush

by Momjeans



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Furiousa is the most eaten out character in fandom history, Max is bashful, Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 00:18:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5846602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momjeans/pseuds/Momjeans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You're red” she smiles. </p><p>Max fumbles with some things on his desk and mumbles shyly in his throat, “mm, no..” </p><p>“Yes” she kisses his earlobe softly and catches it between her teeth, hot breath from her nose and mouth spreading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blush

**Author's Note:**

> The one topic that I will never get tired of is Furiosa being eaten out tbh

It's a late night in Furiosa’s garage. They've been working on the interceptor more than needed, at this point there probably couldn't be any way to make it any more perfect. Gaslights hiss and a bulb with a bad filament buzzes like it's going to snap any second. 

Furiosa is painting symbols into fabric with oil, symbols that mark settlements, places of danger, possible trade opportunities, etc. Though there's no writing, her’s is too jagged, so Max does that part. But now, Max is busy, and he’s hunched over a workbench, mumbling his own problems to himself. Whatever he’s been working on, he’s been at it for days and she hasn't asked, so finally she does. 

“What are you making?” she says, and stands her warm body behind his, leaning with her arm on the table. 

“Booby trap” 

She waits for more. 

“Explosives. Connected to the fuel tanks.Mmm.. Flip a switch wrong, or don't know to turn this thing off, and-” he puffs his cheeks making an imitation explosion noise. 

The wires are intricate on this little box he's soldering, he must have bartered for weeks to find materials that small. 

“I don't know how to make bombs” she admits, her breath dangerously close to his ear and she peers over his shoulder. “Sure a lance, but that's nothing much” 

Max isn't focused anymore and his mind is going a bit blank over the hot breath at the back of his ear, and he focuses on how her chest is touching the back of his shoulder. 

“How do you turn it off before driving?” 

max coughs in the back of his throat, like he’s about to stutter and he can't stop it. He covers it up as grunting and tries not to notice how close her cheek is to his cheek. 

“mm. red switch, here, that'll be the way. But you, mmm, you got to.-” 

He's spinning and oh god this is weak, but he can't stop it. His mind is an engine on the wrong gear, building with fumes. 

“er, all the way. mmm, to the left” 

He licks his lips and his eyelids flutter way from his work and definitely away from her face. Words and mumbles start jutting out of his mouth uncontrollably but they don't string together as they should. 

Furiosa turns her head towards his and she must be inches away because he can feel her gaze. 

“Youre red” she smiles. 

Max fumbles with some things on his desk and mumbles shyly in his throat, “mm, no..” 

“Yes” she kisses his earlobe softly and catches it between her teeth, hot breath from her nose and mouth spreading. 

Immediately his breath hitches and his lips buzz with heat. His cheeks are definitely red, because he can feel them blooming with a warm glow that he gets so easily. 

“Redder” she kisses her wet lips down his neck, feeling stubble. He sucks in more breaths and each one catches in the back of his throat when her teeth tenderly graze his taut neck. Furiosa’s mouth is all wet, humid heat and it’s driving him mad. 

Right now her kisses aren't hungry, and they aren't planned out and wary like they usually are. Now they are sweet and kind, two things that taste sickeningly overwhelming to Max but when they come from her, he can’t help but to melt. 

His fingers twitch against his desk and he grows hard, feeling a bit sheepish over the sudden eager swell. 

She is standing behind him as he sits patiently in the chair, her arms hugging around his neck. The prosthetic weighs heavy on his chest. He lets his head fall back into her and his warm skin glows, so she takes the opportunity to really look at him. His blue eyes are glassy and his sun bleached lashes glow against light. His brows stitch in a way that makes him look a her with a bit of awe, the way Max does and she loves. He licks his bottom lip and it bulges out, looking too womanly and beautiful for the scraggly wastelander he can be. Those full lips are the deal breaker. 

“Come on” she says. 

With her arms still awkwardly wrapped around his neck he gets up, feeling hot and humid in his clothes. He’s tripping over himself, boots too heavy for his feet and he doesn't want to look away from her face. His mouth hangs open and his eyes flutter at her. 

“Here” she says and it's so soft that it’s not even a whisper, and her hand cups the crook of his jaw and drags itself to the nape of his neck, where his hair has grown out a bit and she can twist her fingers through it. His skull is ridden with bumps and dents, and she presses each one, familiar. She’s so close to his face that he can smell her skin, the grime on an engine, the cold smell of grease on her prosthetic, and how her mouth tastes. 

Absently, max is stumbling into her, reaching around to her back and she has to move backwards with him. Again, she’s kissing his hot chest, pulling at his shirt collar and breathing into his ear, sending shivers through his limbs. Max’s head is bowed and rubbing against hers whenever she comes up from kissing his neck. His hands are careful and big over her ribcage, something that aches constantly but she can still feel him through the dull pain. 

The bump of her body against the side of the interceptor is abrupt and max presses against her more than he’d intended to. She can feel how hard he is against her thigh and she can tell how much he's stopping himself from grinding. 

For that she takes her thumb, strong and calloused, and presses it right underneath the side of his jaw, pressing down on an artery, and into his windpipe a little. Her grip blocks off his breathing just enough so that it’s noticeable. 

His jaw drops, limp, and he moans out loud, cracked. His hands grip and fumble at whatever they can grab, which turn out to be the warm leather of her prosthetic harness. He pulls and their bodies are pressed, close as possible. She doesn't let go of her grip and his pulse swells, he can feel it creeping over his skull and the sensation builds. Her eyes look at him knowingly, as she does, like she knows exactly how Max works, how he ticks, how to make him feel good. 

Max drops his head into her chest, right by her neck and breathes ragged, huffing little moans. His stubble is sharp against her skin and he presses to her more, carefully kissing above the dips in her collarbones. 

“You…” he breathes and she hums back, moving her hand to knead at the back of his neck. 

For the few seconds her hand is away from his neck he misses it and wishes that she wouldn't have moved it, because now the space on his skin feels empty and cold. Then that same, calloused hand is on one of his, which is eagerly holding onto the straps around her ribcage. She takes his hand away and he looks up from kissing, just to make sure everything is alright. Furiosa bites her bottom lip and tilts her jaw up, still looking at him. She cups his hand and moves it over her, till his solid fingers are tucked in between her legs. She lets herself rest against the interceptor and he leans into her too, his heavy weight over her stomach. Max presses his fingers against that tight seam in her pants, that provides just enough sensation to make her shudder. He kisses her one more time on the jaw and looks to her face, tracing his fingers up to the opening of her pants and he tucks a few warm fingers beneath the fabric. He twists his fingers through her dark curls of hair between her legs and she grinds to him. It’s almost fucking teasing and she can't have that anymore. She wants to feel how rough his callouses are, how he can trace her sex. She struggles at the buttons and zippers on her pants till finally he can slip his whole hand in. Max is slow and careful so she takes her prosthetic and grips the back of his trousers, pulling him in.

His rough index finger opens her up a little bit and she’s already quite wet, warm and beautiful. He feels over her clit to rub steady and slow. 

“You're hard” He says against her neck and her breath that comes out is faintly a laugh because of course she is. 

Max explores her further, his fingers moving past her clit and reaching towards the inside of her, where her wetness fully opens up, and she can't help but grind against his thumb, to which he grinds back. 

Again she brings her hand up to the back of his neck, and tugs on his hair, just a bit too hard. His moans crack out of his mouth and her metal hand is grazing the skin on the back of his hip. With her flesh hand on his head, she guides him down and he hums in agreement. 

Furiosa looks down at him, how he crouches down, his hands running along her sides and tugging at the top of her pants, just to edge them off. She leans up against the interceptor and it rocks with her weight, with the familiar suspension both of them know. 

His hands creep up the back of her thighs and he presses in between her legs, nearly teasing and then reaching to the back of her pants. Sliding them off os anything but effortless as the fabric is tight and snug around her, a leather belt done too tight and her thighs already spreading, a bit too much. His rough fingers reaching behind the back of her belt and inching her trousers off is too sweet, and he’s being too careful, so she moves her metal hand to the back of his skull. 

The feeling of his soft thighs and his plush lips are heaven, but it’s the callouses scraping her skin, and his hungry teeth against her thigh that makes her shiver. Max is someone that can match to her, and sometimes he can get lost in the tenderness, the rarity of it, but that sharp pressure of a metal claw on the nape of his neck is just enough to tug harder on her pants, more eager. 

Finally, finally the waistline of the fabric is to the middle of her thighs, and Max can see where her sturdy hipbones sit, so elegant and strong under glowing skin. He can see scars, tiny traces of burns, blisters, and bruises that only her thighs seem to get. 

She tugs up with her prosthetic, and he's on his knees but with a straight arched back, hands reaching around her, strong and sure. It’s taking every part of sanity Max has not to put his tongue between her legs but also, he can't help but to look at her , and fuck this happens every time; how every facet and warm part of her body is something he needs to appreciate for a moment. 

He spots a bruise, larger than any other one on her, spreading itself in a watercolor of purple and red over the side of her hip. It's huge, nearly the size of his palm and when he notices it she doesn't offer any explanation, no room for one right now. He reaches her hands behind her ass for stability, and trails one down her thigh, to press wet, gentle kisses over the edge of the bruise and she smirks because Max can be so sweet. 

Standing on his knees, Max’s eyes are level with her bellybutton, and he hugs her by the small of her back, kissing all over her stomach, scars and all. 

Her flesh hand pushes his head back down to what she can't wait for anymore, and Max wets his own lips by biting them softly. 

Steadying himself against the backs of her thighs he explores the top of her crevice with his tongue, just opening her up so fragily, and then pushing his whole tongue in, dragging himself over her clit, slowly. 

Furiosa’s jaw clenches and hot breath comes out through her nostrils, filtering out a moan. 

With just his tongue, is able to fully expose her clit from underneath its hood and as they both know, she is incredibly hard. Swollen and supple. 

Then his jaw starts to move with his tongue and this is exactly what she needs, and the noises that come from deep in her throat, coming out as gravelly moans is his reward. 

He sinks his rough fingertips into her thighs and he can feel her clit twitching beneath the movement of his tongue. She is slick and nearly messy over the seven days of unshaven hair over his face, and his raw, swollen lips. Her fingers curl and tug on his hair, and her core tightens, making her bow over him a little, and when she does her jaw drops, gasping and wincing at pangs of electric pleasure. His fingers reach around the back of her, opening her up, just to feel how wet she is and oh. she is so slick between his callouses. Max’s cheeks are still red but his eyes, blue and his lashes long look up at her because he needs to see her. Her teeth bite at her lip and he can swear he can hear slight cursing under her breath in between moans. 

His tongue works harder, not faster, but more probing, to find that perfect spot under her clit, the one that makes pleasure go straight through her spine, and he does and she nearly screams. Her head falls back, heavy and her eyes roll. His hair is pulled more by her hand subconsciously and her body is stretched and gorgeous, gasping on the constant cusp of an orgasm. 

It seems like time slows, and max wants it to because he loves this, loves being able to make her feel good, like whatever was sitting heavy on her shoulders could melt off with the careful strokes of his tongue. 

A few more flicks of his tongue and he hears “Come on Max..”, like she’s trying to ignite an engine. Then he sucks, and sucks hard, swirling his tongue over her clit, pulsing. 

“Ahh” she moans and if it were any louder it could be a scream. Her brows furrow and her fingers tighten in his hair again. He doesn't stop sucking, he can feel her getting slicker and she's coming and he won't stop because this is as sweet as honey. 

Her chest rises and falls over the high of an orgasm and she finally comes down, sleepy and completely relaxed. His mouth breaks away from her and he looks up to her, and how sweat beads on her brow, and she swallows hard with a dry throat and then hums in approval. Max bites his bottom lip and the crooks of his mouth perks up, eyes fluttering at her. 

With her hand on his skull she kisses him, like she always does, sucking the taste of herself off of his lips, and Max is soft enough to melt into.

**Author's Note:**

> (( the booby trap at the beginning was a direct reference to Road warrior for those of you who caught on ))


End file.
